


Off Campus - The Final Curtain

by Vav



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Based on a Social Media AU, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vav/pseuds/Vav
Summary: The Cousineau-Moss wedding is finally here. Sweetness and shenanigans are sure to be underway as Barry, Hank, and all their friends come together for an evening of love and good champagne.(The conclusion to my Off Campus social media AU - @barry_offcampus on twitter)
Relationships: Barry Berkman/NoHo Hank, Gene Cousineau/Janice Moss, Jermaine Jefrint/Nick Nicholby, Sasha Baxter/Natalie Greer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Off Campus - The Final Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> This is the concluding piece to my social media AU - Off Campus (@barry_offcampus). If you stuck with me for that whole ride, thank you SO much - it honestly means the world to me. If you're a new reader, please enjoy this delightful wedding fluff set in an AU where Barry and Hank meet in college, everything's okay, and, for the most part, nothing hurts. Enjoy!

“I can do this, right? Yeah, I can do this. I know I can do this! Right? Can I do this?” Janice monologues to herself as she looks in the mirror.

“Um, Janice, hi there! You kind of have to,” Natalie chirps, suddenly appearing at her side. Natalie’s not even supposed to be in here, technically, but the door was open, and, well…

Janice smooths down her short dress, which hits just above the knee, for what is probably the twentieth time in the past ten minutes. Janice Moss is not someone who gets nervous. But Janice Moss has also never been married before. The last time all of her family was in one place like this was her college graduation. 

“I know, Natalie,” Janice states matter-of-factly. “I will, and I want to, but a woman getting married in her fifties isn’t exactly the event of the century.”

“Are you -” a voice pipes up from across the room, and the clack of heels and the swish of a dress precedes the continued, “are you joking?” Sasha comes up behind Janice and Natalie in her big, sparkly, pink dress - something more extravagant than a prom dress, but a bit too glitzy to be a proper ball gown - and peeks over their shoulders. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not joking, Sasha,” Janice informs her, and fidgets with the lacy neckline of her dress. “I know I look good, but - put that on the record. I  _ know _ I look good.” Natalie and Sasha beam at her, always loving their moments with Janice whenever she’d come by the theater. “But some of the guys at the station had a bet going for whether or not I’d actually go through with this ‘ _ at my age. _ ’” Sasha hooks her arm around Natalie’s waist as Natalie stares, mouth agape and brows drawn together, into the mirror alongside Janice.

“Men are fucking garbage,” Sasha states plainly. “I mean, except, like, Mr. Cousineau. And Jermaine. Maybe Shia LaBoof.”

“Oh! It’s LaBeouf!” Natalie corrects her gently, placing her hand over Sasha’s on her side. Janice applies a little more lip gloss.

“Nah, never mind. I don’t respect the French like that,” Sasha sighs, and reaches up to fix the bow in her hair. Natalie sewed it by hand to match her dress, and Sasha cried upon being presented with it. Natalie also made one for Sally, who hugged her tight and elected to forget to bring it to Big Bear.

“Where the hell do you think the name ‘Cousineau’ comes from?” Janice asks incredulously, eyes wide and eyebrows knitted together. Natalie purses her lips and taps her index finger to her chin, meeting Sasha’s eyes in the mirror. Sasha stamps her heel on the ground.

“No!  _ Fuck _ !” she pouts, and Natalie grins cheekily as Janice chuckles smugly. “I thought he was, like, Canadian!”

“And where do you think a good amount of Canadians came from?” Janice challenges, smoothing her dress one last time.

“I can’t fucking believe this. I’m wounded. I’m fucking wounded,” Sasha goes on. Janice shakes her head at the girls beside her as she turns to face them.

“What are you two even doing in here? It’s supposed to just be me and my sisters,” Janice scolds, crossing her arms over her body. Natalie looks caught in the act, and Sasha looks like she’s about to formulate an excuse that would work on anybody but Janice. “Uh uh. Off you go. Out into the woods.” 

“Sasha’s heels are too pointy for the dirt!” Natalie defends her girlfriend, who moves to grab her hand instead of her waist as Janice ushers them out of the cabin.

“Oh, I have a pair of Pumas she can change into if she’d like!” Janice teases, pushing and prodding the two young women with light nudges and tsking noises, like she’s trying to get a stray cat out of her garage.

“ _ Pumas _ ? Are you just having a laugh because I’m European?” Sasha jokes in return, still feigning hurt. “That’s discrimination. You should know better, you work for the campus police.”

“Well-” Natalie interjects, but she and Sasha are out on the front porch before she can get any further.

“Don’t start!” Janice warns as she shuts the door in their faces, the ‘gone fishing’ sign nailed to the door swinging tauntingly before them. The door locks.

“She looks fucking beautiful, doesn’t she?” Sasha whispers, gazing up at Nat, who decided 3 inch wedges - which push her over 6’ in height - were necessary for the occasion.

“I can’t-” Natalie starts, but is interrupted by her own tears welling in her eyes. “I’m just...Like, someday, that’s going to be me, and you, and I just...I need a sugar free lemonade, can we get a sugar free lemonade? Do you think? Do they have that here?”

“Who the  _ fuck _ has the lemonade around here?!” Sasha yells to no one in particular as she lifts her dress and saunters down the stairs toward the patch of forest set up for the ceremony, Natalie following shortly behind her.

* * *

“You’re obviously on a slope,” Jermaine grumbles bitterly. Hank circles them a few times, taking note of Nick and Jermaine’s heights from different angles. “Nick’s shoes have a heel. Make sure you factor that into the math. You have to factor that into the math or it’s not fair. We could take our shoes o-“

“Make sure you’re counting his head, not his hair!” Nick warns. Jermaine shoots him a look. Nick sticks his tongue out.

“This is goddamn ridiculous.”

“You’re absolutely right, honey,” Nick nods, eyebrows drawn together in feigned concern. “We could always just go by the height marked on our drivers licenses? If that works for you?” Jermaine rolls his eyes. “Oh. Wait. That’s right. You don’t...have one. Do you?”

“I-“

“Okay!” Hank announces with a clap. “Yeah. Yep. So sorry guys. I actually do not even need to look that carefully. I just like to hear you argue. So silly! Anyways.” Nick brings a hand to his face to bite at his nails. Nervous habit. Jermaine grabs that hand and laces their fingers together. “Yeah, so, Nick is, like,  _ way _ taller. Couple of inches. Pretty crazy, right?”

“That’s not fuckin’ possible!” Jermaine protests, and Nick beams by his side. Jermaine’s gaze flicks from Nick’s eyes to his grin, dazzling and bright as ever. Jermaine’s always liked a pretty smile.

“Why do you think I kiss your forehead so much?” Nick asks, turning more toward Jermaine and cupping his face in both hands. “It’s okay. I love my short king.”

“I’m  _ taller than average height _ , Nicholas,” Jermaine states matter-of-factly. Nick kisses his forehead for good measure. 

“Oh, you know I love it when you call me that,” Nick smirks. “You want to throw my middle name in there, too?”

“Yeah, okay, Bartholomew,” Jermaine responds sardonically. Nick clenches his jaw and quirks a brow, like a challenge. “Lucky I love you. Fuckin’ asshole. Annoying ass.” Jermaine grabs Nick by the belt loop and pulls him in for a proper kiss. “Still my baby though.”

“Careful, that’s fake Italian leather,” Nick whispers as he feels Jermaine’s finger brush his belt. Jermaine scoffs, rolls his eyes, and grabs Nick by the hips instead.

“Okay, wow,” Hank nods and turns on his heel to walk anywhere else. He loves Nick and Jermaine with his whole heart. They’re the best roommates ever. He just prefers to look the other way when one of them’s got his tongue down the other’s throat. Which is frequently. And Hank loves that for them. But they don’t require a spectator. Where’s Barry?

* * *

“Believe it or not - Richard Gere,” Gene finishes a story that Hank missed most of. The guys of the wedding party plus a few stragglers are grouped up outside the cabin, doing their absolute damnedest to keep the dirt off of their shoes. 

It’s quiet, for the most part. Just chatter here and there, the shuffling of feet over dirt and leaves and twigs, the caw of birds from nearby trees. Hank’s not a big fan of camping or the woods, but he  _ is  _ a big fan of seeing Barry all gussied up and nervous like this. He links their arms and focuses back on Gene.

“Right? You try to invite a guy to one bar mitzvah and suddenly  _ you’re  _ the bad guy. I even said he didn’t have to splurge too much on the gift. $500 would have been plenty!” Gene goes on, pulling a few chuckles from his friends and family.

“Dad, didn’t you say you were going to invite Randy Quaid?” Leo asks, hands in his pockets and a knowing grin on his face.

“Oh,  _ that  _ son of a bitch?” Gene responds, then turns to speak to the rest of the guys. “Leo knows I could go on for hours about Quaid. I won’t. Not right now. But if you give me an inch, I’ll sure as shit take a fuckin’ mile.” 

Barry feels Hank giggling beside him, so he turns his head to drink in the curve of Hank’s lips and the way his eyes crease at the corners when he smiles. Barry remembers the first time he saw that smile. Hank had a major habit of hanging around the bookstore far too often early in their first semester. Barry let him have a defective keychain for free one night, and the way Hank beamed at him - mouth open, eyes wide, almost like he was taken aback - burned itself in his mind. They weren’t even friends at the time. Hardly knew each other’s names. Barry moves his arm so he can wrap it around Hank, pull him into a side embrace.

“Are you excited?” Hank murmurs when there’s a lull in conversation as everyone goes back to talking with one or two others rather than focusing solely on Gene.

“Yeah. Mr. Cousineau’s really happy with how everything turned out,” Barry responds, then nonchalantly places a kiss to Hank’s temple. It’s nice like this. It’s comfortable. Barry’s always so sweet and gentle with him in public. In private, too, for the most part. Hank feels like he’s floating. Barry always tells him he still isn’t quite sure what he’s doing when it comes to them - when it comes to the kisses, the touches, the hand holding, the dates, the whispers as he holds Hank in bed at night - but Hank can’t imagine a more perfect partner for himself. “Are you excited? Like for the reception and everything?”

“Of course!” Hank responds, leaning into Barry a little more, giving Barry an excuse to kiss the top of Hank’s head. Barry likes kissing Hank, wherever and whenever he can. It makes him feel confident. He knows he’s come a long way from apologizing the first time he held Hank’s hand out of fear that he was doing it wrong. Nothing with Hank has felt wrong, except for all the time they spent not being with each other. Maybe that was a good thing, though. The right thing. But every day Barry spends with Hank, he’s less and less sure of that. “Going to dance with you  _ all _ night. Even though you did not want to take that tango dance class with me.”

“I was busy,” Barry excuses, and Hank rolls his eyes playfully as he turns out of Barry’s arms to face him straight on instead, grabbing both of his hands. “I was! It was my turn to clean the bathroom that night.” Hank smiles softly - he likes it when Barry steps up to take on housework without necessarily being asked. 

The apartment wasn’t a trash pit when Hank moved in, per se, but he quickly found out that nothing really got done until someone reached their breaking point with the passive aggressive “well  _ I  _ did it last time...or the time before”s and “I mean I don’t even use the sink very often”s. Living in a now-functional apartment is nice. Comforting. Especially with Barry there.

“Well, still, you dance with me. No exceptions,” Hank tells him, putting on a strict face until Barry cranes down to kiss him on the lips. When Barry pulls back, Hank’s fighting the secretive smile that threatens to manifest on his face. Barry raises his brows, and Hank gives in. “Especially when you look so handsome. I want my Barushka to sweep me off my feet.”

Barry’s reminded of something. He lets go of Hank’s hands, and Hank’s about to pout, but then Barry pushes up the left sleeve of his suit jacket and shirt. Hank sees the bracelet, and spaces out while staring at it before peeling his gaze away to look into Barry’s eyes. No, no, he needs one more look. The pendant shines in the late afternoon sun, and the blue bracelet complements Barry’s tan skin - a byproduct of his many recent beach dates with Hank.

“I think Mr. Cousineau tell you not to wear that?” Hank’s voice is small when he asks, and Barry grins confidently when he pushes his sleeve back down. Barry shrugs, tilts his head to the side. It’s sexy. Hank thinks he’s sexy. Everything about Barry is sexy and alluring and charming, right down to the tan lines on his upper arms from his flat out refusal to ever wear a tank top instead of a t-shirt.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to,” Barry replies, and takes one of Hank’s hands once more. “Feels weird when I don’t. Like you’re not with me.” Barry wrinkles his nose. “Not a fan of that.”

“Alright, gang, I’m being told the show is about to go on,” Gene announces, and Barry looks over toward the altar to find that most of the guests have found a seat. The first two rows on either side of the aisle - a flat clearing in the dirt and grass with flower petals already strewn about - are empty, reserved for those still mingling with the bride and groom. “Let’s do this thing, yeah?” Leo motions for people to follow him toward the altar. “Gentlemen, let’s go. Flies up. Ties straight. Chins high. Showtime.”

Gene offers Barry a wink and a nod before he sets off to get situated in front of their guests at the end of the aisle. Hank squeezes Barry’s hand.

“I guess you better be getting going, then, huh?” Hank murmurs, gently caressing Barry’s cheek with the back of his free hand. “I will be right there in the chairs. Just stand there and look your most handsomest, okay? Should not be problem for you.” Hank pats Barry’s cheek lightly then drops that hand.

“Alright. Yeah. ‘Showtime.’ Does my suit look okay?”

“More than okay. Most perfect thing I have ever seen,” Hank beams, and raises up onto his toes just the slightest bit to give Barry a fleeting kiss. “Suit is good too.” Barry feels the redness creep onto his cheeks. Hank’s still able to do that to him after all this time. “I love you. Go do your job!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barry grins, and they make their way to their places on two different trajectories, Barry conscious of every leaf he crunches beneath his polished dress shoes.

Barry’s knee doesn’t buckle until he’s nearly to his place at the altar. It hadn’t even registered. Maybe Barry’s just making it up.

_ I love you _ . 

Blood rushes to Barry’s ears, and the only noise he can make out beside the beating of his own heart is the gentle melody of the violins that begin to play.

_ I love you _ .

Leo has to physically pull Barry closer to him to make sure their formation is correct as the groomsmen stand off to the side of Gene. Leo pats him on the shoulder in a friendly way, but his grin is concerned. Maybe he says ‘you good?’ but Barry’s head is spinning too quickly to notice it.

_ I love you _ .

“Natalie,” Hank says softly as he joins his friends in seating themselves in the second row. “Natalie, um, I know now is not the best time, but I have little bit of emergency.” Natalie’s head whips around as she sits, eyes big and doe-ish as she immediately finds herself in tune with Hank’s panic.

“What? What is it? Do you have cold feet? Wait, you’re not the one getting married. What is it?” she asks, voice hushed but still strained. She grabs Sasha’s hand as Sasha talks to Sally, who managed to snag the coveted aisle seat.

“No, I just…” Hank trails off, and steals a glance at Barry. Barry may as well be staring into some other dimension. Or maybe an interesting rock on the ground. Hank can’t get a read on his face. “I just tell Barry I love him. On accident. Like, it just spill out of my mouth like orange juice.”

“Oh my god, Hank,” Natalie’s voice is already quivering as she grabs Hank’s hand, too. “Hank, that’s so special!”

“I did not mean to do it in middle of forest! At The Big Bear!” Hank hisses, glancing back and forth between Barry at the altar and Natalie right next to him.

“But you meant it, right?”

“Oh my god, of course I mean it, are you kidding me?”

“What are we talking about?” Jermaine whisper-yells at them from the other side of Hank. He catches a glimpse of the tears already rolling down Natalie’s face. “Never mind.”

“Hank, I love you two so much,” Natalie says as she tries to maintain her composure. “This is the most beautiful day ever. Except for the day when I told Sasha I loved her. And then later that night when we-”

“No, let’s not talk about that, love,” Sasha chimes in, squeezing Natalie’s hand, before returning to her conversation about what not to do in an airport with Sally. “I actually did a video about that once. I’ll send you the link after this.”

“Still. Hank!!” Natalie squeezes Hank’s hand in turn, wiggling it a bit between the two of them in her excitement. “Oh my god, he’s gonna say it back. Can I be there when he says it back? Do you want me to take a video?”

“No!” Hank’s eyes bulge. “Well, maybe picture. I don’t know. We see where night takes us. You think he will say it back?” Natalie’s smile is soft and assuring, and she tilts her head toward the altar, brows raising.

Hank looks back up at the men standing before the crowd, and Barry’s eyes meet his immediately. Barry had been watching, drinking in the nervous bounce of Hank’s leg, the tense of his jaw, the curve of his lips as he spoke. Hank’s eyes soften, and he offers Barry a small wave with his free hand. Barry’s movement is delayed, but he waves back, smile small and unassuming.

“Grab his hand,” Nick whispers to Jermaine, loud enough for Hank to hear.

“What? I-”

“Hold his fucking hand.”

“Why would I-”

“Because he’s vulnerable!” Nick all but shouts, and Jermaine scrambles to find Hank’s hand. Hank allows Jermaine to clasp their hands together on Hank’s thigh, and Hank suddenly finds himself even more overcome with emotion than before. He’s among his people, staring up at his person. Barry takes a deep breath while maintaining eye contact with Hank. Things will be okay.

“Fine,” Jermaine murmurs. Nick brings Jermaine’s other hand, the one that  _ he’s _ holding, up to his lips and places a kiss on the back of it, right next to the little tattoo of Saturn that Jermaine got a few weeks prior. Jermaine grins at Nick, wink hidden behind his round sunglasses, then looks over to scope out who’s sitting on the other side of Nick.

Eric waves politely.

“You’re  _ not  _ holding his hand,” Jermaine huffs.

* * *

“Friends, family, loved ones, esteemed guests,” Emmy and Tony award-winning actor Mandy Patinkin starts. An aborted sob rings out from the crowd of seated guests. Natalie. Sasha is quick to lean in close to her and try to soothe her. Barry glances out into the rows, catches Hank’s eye momentarily. “Gene and Janice would like to extend their humblest of thank-yous to each and every one of you for joining us this evening, mere yards away from beautiful Big Bear Lake. I hope you brought enough bug spray.”

“Eight cans, baby,” Nick whispers to Jermaine, who presses his thigh to Nick’s and grins lazily.

The thing is, Barry knows he’s supposed to be facing forward. They went over this this morning. Face the altar. Left hand over right, clasped in front of them. Feet shoulder width apart. Slight bend in the knee. 

Barry finds himself shifting his weight slightly every few seconds, and looking over at Hank frequently. He can’t help it. It’ll probably ruin the wedding videos - Gene has three separate videographers set up in different locations - but Barry can’t even begin to think about that right now. All he wants is to look at Hank, to figure out if there’s any ounce of regret on Hank’s face, to somehow, someway communicate without words that the feeling isn’t one-sided.

“Marriage is not a thing, but a process. One of dedication, communication, vigilance, support, laughter, togetherness, protection, and understanding,” Mandy reads from his parchment. Barry’s not sure if the parchment was Mandy’s idea or Mr. Cousineau’s.

Hank doesn’t feel his tears until they roll all the way down his face and threaten to plummet onto his shirt from his chin. He lets them. He likes holding his friends’ hands. He likes listening to Mandy speak about love and devotion and sharing a bond with another person. It’s nice. It’s a lot. Barry glances at him again and the tears come quicker. It’s a lot.

Barry zones out during the vows. He had to listen to Gene rehearse his vows no less than seventeen times, to the point where Barry is now numb to all cultural references to Cyrano de Bergerac and It Happened One Night. He’s sure Janice’s vows are lovely and funny as can be, but he’s too busy toying with his cufflinks and trying to stand how he was told to stand, look where he was told to look.

“I never thought I had the capacity to say this to anyone,” Janice says as she begins wrapping up her vows, “but you are the love of my life. It’s been such a joy to get to know you, your family, your friends, and your students, who you care so much for every day.” Another sob - this time, from Nick. Jermaine sits up straight in his seat and wraps his arm around his boyfriend rather than holding his hand. “Even when they do  _ not _ make it easy.” Barry chuckles without a sound, and he doesn’t feel his tears until he tastes salt on his tongue.

Hank hones in on Barry’s hands as they come up to briefly wipe at his face. Barry then looks at him with glossy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, and gives Hank the best grin he can muster without completely breaking down. Hank draws in a deep breath as Barry looks away, lets it out as Natalie squeezes his hand even tighter. He might lose circulation. That’s okay. He’s left handed anyway, and Jermaine’s grip on his hand is lax, bordering on nonexistent. 

Gene repeats after his officiant.

“I, Gene, take you, Janice, to be my wife, my constant companion, and my everlasting love. I will work to create a bond of honesty, respect, and trust; one that withstands the tides of time and change, and grows along with us.” Barry’s teeth sink into his lower lip and he nods minutely. Honesty, respect, and trust.

There’s no one he’s more honest with than Hank.

No one he respects more than Hank.

No one he trusts more than Hank to have his best interest at heart. Not even himself.

“I promise to challenge you and to accept challenges from you.”

Hank smirks. He can see the tips of Barry’s ears start to go pink. He can see a tear drip from Barry’s clean-shaven jaw. He’s suddenly a lot less preoccupied with how Barry feels, and a lot more focused on calculating how quickly he could feasibly have Barry in his arms once the ceremony is over.

“Above all, I will give you my love freely and unconditionally. I pledge this to you from the bottom of my heart, for all the days of our lives,” Gene finishes, and Mandy nods to signify the speech is complete. Mandy opens his mouth to ask for the rings, but Gene interjects. “Days of our lives? Really? After they made an Internet meme out of my  _ one  _ appearance on that show?”

“No,” Janice shakes his head at him. “Five minutes. Just five more minutes and then we’ll be married and you can go down that road. That was a lovely speech, thank you, Mandy.” She squeezes Gene’s hands in hers, and Hank joins a chorus of laughter from the crowd.

“I’m just saying, it’s a bit of an odd conclusion to-”

“Rings! Who’s got the rings?” she cuts him off.

Barry’s able to compose himself for the short remainder of the ceremony. Gene nearly fumbles Janice’s ring, to which he receives a  _ ‘Really? This is really how the marriage is gonna start?’,  _ before placing it on her finger. Janice handles Gene’s ring with ease, and quirks a challenging brow at him after sliding it on. Barry grins warmly. He feels like he’s watching his parents. How his parents should have been. How his parents should have loved one another. Loved him.

Hank’s eyes latch onto the way Barry’s holding his jaw, the way that tells him he’s holding back a much bigger, goofier smile.

“By the power of your love and commitment, and the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” People already begin applauding. “Janice, you may kiss your husband.”

They don’t hesitate. Barry finds himself laughing and clapping, a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest. He glances back to Hank, who’s already looking at him, clapping and grinning just the same. Sally wipes away a few tears. Natalie cries into Sasha’s shoulder, both thankful that they brought their makeup bags to the cabin. Jermaine urgently tries to get Nick to stop crying, but Nick kisses him instead, and Jermaine continues clapping above his own head as they smile against each other’s mouths.

“The newlyweds, everybody!” Mandy announces, and Gene and Janice take each other by the hand as they walk back up the aisle, Gene with a little pep in his step, completely unrelated to the slight lift of his shoes. Barry takes one of Janice’s sisters by the arm and follows suit, behind Leo and another sister, and stops for a kiss on the cheek from Sally and a brief glance at Hank. The pendant on Barry’s bracelet becomes visible below his suit sleeve as he continues walking.

* * *

“I’ll never recover. I’ll never see anything as beautiful as that ever again, I think,” Sasha rambles, but Hank only listens with half an ear. Once it’s apparent that the ceremony is officially over and everybody’s making their way back up to the cabin and surrounding land, Hank starts politely pushing past people to try to find Barry.

“Okay, people, the first shuttle to the reception gets here in forty-five minutes. We’re doing a  _ tight  _ cocktail hour, okay?” Gene instructs from inside the cabin, where the wedding party gussies up a little before pictures and some other family members grab bottles of wine to take out to the pub tables that Gene had Nick and Hank set up this morning. Barry finishes helping Janice’s mother with hooking her necklace, then makes a bee line for the door. “Barry, make sure this bottle of good Chardonnay makes its way to Mandy, will you?”

“Yeah, Mr. Cousineau, totally,” Barry murmurs as he walks right past Gene in the kitchen. Gene holds his arms out to the sides as he watches Barry leave without the bottle.

By the time Barry’s able to shimmy past a horde of relatives and C-list celebrities flocking to the cabin to congratulate Gene, he’s lost track of Hank. He’s not quite sure how, seeing as the rest of their friends are standing around two tables near the cabin. Maybe Hank’s looking for him too.

Hank is, in fact, looking for him too, standing on his tiptoes and risking a crease in his loafers among the crowd to try to find the handsome groomsman. Maybe he should have waited with their friends like Jermaine - the only one not crying in some capacity - suggested. He’s dying to see Barry, to tell him he loves him again, to kiss him and wipe away his tears. Hank breaks away from the crowd a bit, hoping to get a better view while removed from everyone. He takes a few steps back, then his elbow nudges something - someone? - that causes him to jump and utter a quick apology.

“Sorry,” Barry says in return, before realizing exactly who it was who had run into him. “Oh, hey, honey.” Hank turns around and easily falls into Barry’s hold, his hands fiddling with a button on Barry’s shirt and Barry’s hands gently resting on Hank’s arms. Hank grins. He likes  _ honey _ . Honey’s new. Honey’s sweet. 

“Hello, handsome,” Hank responds, then takes a look to the right to see that they’re standing at the very end of the aisle, the cabin and all the guests not too far away.

“Hey,” Barry sighs. His eyes aren’t sure where to look. 

“Hey yourself,” Hank teases. Barry kisses him. Barry cups the back of Hank’s head with one hand and lets the other fall down to grip his waist, and kisses him. It’s slow and tender and Hank can feel one of Barry’s tears hit his own cheek. He’s sure one of his own lands on Barry’s.

“Hey, I love you,” Barry whispers when they pull back far enough to get a good look at each other. Barry looks relaxed. Barry feels relaxed. He should probably feel tense and nervous and terrified, but he...doesn’t. Not here. Not with Hank. “Too. I love you, too, Hank. Because - well, you said you loved me, and I think you meant it, and I just love you, and I was thinking about you that whole time, and-”

“I love you, Barushka,” Hank smiles, and kisses the corner of Barry’s mouth. Barry looks a little dumbfounded, despite his fairly well-composed monologue.

“I love you, Hank, oh my god.” Another kiss, short and sweet and much like the first time Hank kissed him in the campus bookstore. “Like, I never knew when I was supposed to feel it, or when I was supposed to say it, because I’m bad at this, but I think I’ve known this whole time? Or felt it? In some way? I don’t know, but-”

“Holy macaroni, you say so many words! You were so shy and made of stone when we meet! Who are you getting this from?” 

“You,” Barry responds plainly, eyebrows raised and lips threatening to reveal a smile. 

“Oh, me?” 

“Yeah, you.”

“I am seeing now. Well, that is  _ very  _ much not polite of you, mister,” Hank pretends to scold, but toys with Barry’s bow tie, knocking it more off center than it already was. “But I love you, so I forgive you.”

“I love you, so I forgive you for- forgiving...me?” Barry stammers, suddenly feeling his cheeks and neck get incredibly hot.

“Okay, now I think you are just wanting to say you love me,” Hank beams and nudges Barry’s nose with his own before kissing him softly one more time before they’re interrupted by the clearing of a throat. They pull away with wide eyes and look at the intruder.

“Hey, um, Barry?” Natalie asks, and it’d sound timid if Barry knew that she wasn’t shy in the slightest. “Hi. Mr. Cousineau said he wanted you to take this to Mandy?” She holds the bottle of Chardonnay out in front of herself with both hands. The boys turn around slightly so they’re not completely wrapped up in one another anymore.

“Yes,” Barry nods, eyebrows raised expectantly. Hank begins mouthing words at Natalie as her eyes flick wildly between the two.

“Okay, well I was just wondering if you were going to do that for him? Or-”

“ _ He. Say. He. Love me, _ ” Hank mouths exaggeratedly twice in a row, pointing subtly at Barry.

“I just - oh, my god,” Natalie gasps, bringing one hand up to fan at her eyes. “Really?”

“Wait, why are you crying? Is he that upset?” Barry asks, and Hank laughs next to him.

“No, no, please, I’m going to -” Natalie starts, but finds herself overcome with emotion once more. “I’m going to take this to Mandy. You two stay here and be beautiful, wonderful human beings that I am  _ so  _ lucky to be friends with.”

“Okay, I-” Barry cuts himself off when Natalie promptly turns around and leaves. “Okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“It is very emotional day, Barushka. Love in the air. Leaves on the ground. Handsome, sexy man on my arm,” Hank smirks, and Barry rolls his eyes fondly. “We go back with our friends now?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Barry agrees, and they head back in the direction of the cabin, hand in hand. “Did you mean it when you said you were going to make me dance to every single song tonight?”

“Not  _ literally _ ,” Hank scoffs, “But I have to show you off. Let everyone know you are mine. And that I love you. And that we are boyfriends. Plus, I am wicked good dancer.” Hank squeezes Barry’s hand, smiles at him warmly. 

“Okay, just don’t step on my feet. You already ran them over with your scooter.”

“You are so fucking lucky I am in love with you, Barushka.”

* * *

Barry slow dances for the first time since middle school. Hank holds him and guides him and kisses his jaw and shows Barry exactly where to put his hands on Hank’s body, whether or not those places are...conventional. 

Barry enjoys a wedding reception for the first time. He and his friends get pleasantly drunk. Hank steals green beans off of his dinner plate. Nick knocks over a glass of champagne and apologizes to the wait staff for several minutes. Jermaine doesn’t dance until they play his and Nick’s “song” (Obsessed by Mariah Carey). The cake is immaculate and Hank sits in Barry’s lap as they watch Sasha and Jermaine teach Mr. Cousineau how to do the Cha-Cha Slide. ( _ “The instructions are  _ in the song _ , Mr. Cous,”  _ Jermaine shouts loud enough for them to hear.)

Barry tells Hank he loves him again when they go outside for fresh air toward the end of the reception. Barry had said he was fine going alone, but Hank’s not really interested in being anywhere but by Barry’s side right now. They ditched their suit jackets long ago, and now stand overlooking the lake with Barry behind Hank, arms wrapped around his chest.

Hank makes everything better. Barry knows this. His life significantly started improving the moment he met Hank, and whether or not it’s a coincidence, the Barry of today couldn’t bear not being Hank’s. Hank still teases him -  _ “You make me wait six months to be with you, I think you can wait six more minute for dinner.”  _ \- but all either of them care about now is falling asleep next to each other and dreaming about what another day of being together will entail.

“I did not want to do it here, you know,” Hank murmurs. Barry hums inquisitively and presses a kiss to the side of Hank’s head.

“What, the wedding? I think it's a nice location.”

“No. Saying I love you, silly,” Hank explains. Barry kisses his way to the other side of Hank’s head and noses at his earlobe. “I wanted to make you big fancy dinner - lasagna, your favorite, of course - and light few candles and dress up so nice for you.”

“Well, we’re both dressed up,” Barry whispers, kissing Hank in between each clause, “We had a fancy dinner tonight. There were candles somewhere, probably.” Hank grins and reaches up to hold onto one of Barry’s arms that is wrapped around him. “Plus, we’re here with our friends. All the people we love.”

“When did you become Cheesemaster General?”

“Probably sometime after I met you.” Hank scoffs at that, but leans into Barry’s embrace even more. “I think it’s perfect. Anywhere with you is perfect.”

“Okay, yes, you have to stop that right now, immediately, or I am going to walk back in there like a big crying mess,” Hank replies. “But maybe you are right. Anywhere with you is perfect, too. Maybe not police station, though. Oh, but your work is especially perfect when you give me free Snickers. Snickers sound pretty good right now. Do you think they would have any? Perhaps in kitchen?”

Barry chuckles lowly and presses a fleeting kiss to Hank’s jaw.

“I love you, Hank.”

“I love you, my sweet Barushka.”


End file.
